Abrus had not meant to come here, but then so much of his life has been built around the unplanned that this was perhaps inevitable. Ideas and endeavours that inevitably go awry, best intentions becoming twisted. All he had intended was a little bit of space and time, and he had accidentally been granted plenty of each. He arrives in Beqanna with a thunderous crash, the splintering of an old cedar deep within the Forest providing the life and power needed to pull him through the portal he had created. It splits in half, almost perfectly, and each massive section collides with other trees and shrubs before landing so heavily on the ground that it trembles far off in each direction.

And then silence follows.

In the centre of where the tree had stood is now a mud splattered stallion. A raven works to detangle itself from his mane and the quiet indignant squawks that punctuate the process are the only thing that adds sound while the other animals nearby wait to see if the danger has passed. Abrus can sense their fear, and the weariness of that fear - as if too many cataclysmic events have happened to these creatures and their past generations.

He had not intended to bring chaos to their day but he is far too weary to try to send out more power to sooth them. They will in their own time get back to skittering about in their usual late-afternoon routines, filling nearly every inch of this forest with life and movement.

That has not quite happened yet when he takes a step forward, out of the small crater he had formed in the root ball of the cedar tree. What happens next feels unexpected, but if he had paid attention to just how drained he was it absolutely made sense. He stumbles and falls, crashing hard on his knees. The needles that compose the leaf litter here sting where they make contact with torn flesh and he groans in annoyance as he unsteadily gets back to his feet. His companion, the raven, flew free but chatters in annoyance nonetheless as she lands on one of the branches of the fallen tree. Abrus is far more concerned with his own annoyance over hers so he ignores her for now, choosing to spend his focus on just staying upright for a while before attempting to move.

Abrus is not alone - but he had not expected to be. This forest, like the one of the land he had just left, teems with life and it sings in his blood. From the larger creatures that brush aside the leaves as they move to the smaller, microscopic ones that live in the soil and help turn matter into energy.

He is entertained by the idea that he might need outside assistance to help him, and a smirk grows across his expression. His eyes glow white as he borrows the sight of his raven, perched in a nearby tree. He hadn’t heard the sound of the river before, not this deep within the woods, and with all the firs and pines he can’t even get a good glimpse of her through the eyes of the forest.

She is creature of water, though - that is obvious. Could she even come over here, if he did need help? Or perhaps she is amphibious and simply has not decided yet whether to walk on land.

He doesn’t answer her question, instead asking something else with amusement - the glow of his eyes fading again and returning Abrus to the world of darkness he knows well. “Are you a healer then? Do you know much about the herbs of these woods?”

His legs sting a little from the fall but, once he has energy again, this slight pain will be forgotten. The exhaustion bothers him more but there’s nothing to heal that beyond rest - reminding him that, despite his power, he is still at least partially mortal.

She leaves, and Abrus forgets her for those moments. He closes his eyes, focusing on himself (though since he is already blind, this is largely just an instinctual action). The exhaustion is expansive, and he is aware that he could sleep for a few days. Perhaps he will - if he cannot find the energy to move from this spot, he will stay here and sleep for as long as it takes. His companion can watch over him. This land is still so unknown to him - and even if there were only mundane threats, in his current condition they could do more damage than they would normally.

Abrus is surprised when she returns, and even more surprised to find that she brought some sort of plant with her. He can hear her emerge from the water, and place something upon the ground - his ears twitching as they track her. There is not a single part of him that feels compelled to try it, though. It had been a waste of her time.

When she asks if he’ll tell her the herbs of the land he shakes his head. “I could, but I won’t.”

It does not occur to him to explain why, or why he does not need the herbs at all. They were still within their first meeting, after all. He did not owe her such things.

So he changes the subject. “Are there a lot of sea-dwellers here in this world, ones like you?”

Abrus listens to the sound of the mare work her way back to the water - it sounds like an awkward endeavour, but she gets there eventually and must feel happier for it.

When she asks if he is curious about her kin, he shakes his head. “I only wanted to know if this world was populated by fish like you.” It figures that the first stranger he’d meet in this new world was someone who knew as little about it as himself - but it was hardly something that would leave him sour. As soon as his strength recovered he’d be able to travel and learn things for himself, meet others and learn - figure out if there was a place to carve for himself here.

It is good news if they aren’t all aquatic though - it would be very boring for him, when his magic is tied to the earth and the woods. He would eventually be able to build up the strength for another jump between worlds - but why bother if he did not have to, and it was still far too early in his stay here to be thinking of moving on.

His raven companion begins to preen herself, and Abrus opts to change the subject once more. There’s a rather pointed curiosity in his voice, like he’s searching for a wound in her. Might as well try to get something interesting out of this interaction. “Does it ever bother you, being bound only to the water?”

He supposes a fish does not know any better, but it’s likely this aquatic mare is a little more evolved than a trout - she can emerge on land, at least a little bit, and see that there’s an entire world on the surface she can only brush against and never fully experience.

Abrus listens patiently to her response, only slightly distracted by his exhaustion and the woods surrounding him. He isn’t sure why he asked, but he may as well since cannot yet move. He closes his eyes, though this is really just a formality - the world doesn’t get any darker for him. Sleep is closeby adn the terrible annoyance of it is that he needs it in order to have the energy to protect himself while he sleeps. The raven will keep an eye out, and he supposes all else will just have to be a risk he takes.

“Truly unfortunate for you, isn’t it?” He remarks, without pity. There didn’t seem to be any point to longing for something you could not attain. Unless there was some magical wish-granter below the sea that might help her. Or a friendly magician.

But even if he had the energy to help her out, even temporarily, he wouldn’t. She belonged in the sea just like the trout and the crayfish. Just like how the worms belonged in the soil. Everyone had their place. So perhaps she was more evolved - and she’d only be unhappier for it.